


Save the Whales

by srmarybadass



Category: True Blood RPF
Genre: Crack, M/M, brb going to hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmarybadass/pseuds/srmarybadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, it was all Deborah's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save the Whales

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published to LJ in October 2009.  
> RPS, so...be warned.  
> Crack.

In retrospect, it was all Deborah’s fault.

 

It all started when she came across Alex’s “Tails for Whales” photo on the internet.

 

“You know, Greenpeace is holding a rally down in Baton Rouge,” she said as she flipped through a magazine during a particularly long day of shooting.

 

“Really, now?” Alexander quirked an eyebrow.

 

Deborah nodded. “Yeah. Hey, we should go! I think we have the rest of the afternoon off- I mean, they’re still shooting Anna and Stephen’s big love scene, right?”

 

“You want to spend your afternoon saving the whales?”

 

“I would like to attend the rally,” the new kid- _Allan_ , Alex reminded himself, _Allan Hyde_ \- spoke up from his chair in the corner. “I mean, if either of you wanted to go, and had space in your car, and didn’t mind-”

 

“I would _love_ to take you,” Deborah broke in, giving a pointed look to Alex. “How about you? You want to go _save the whales?”_

 

Alex sighed. There really was no winning this one. When Deborah set her mind on something…not even Mr. Ball stood in her way.

 

“Sure,” he groaned, heaving himself up from the chair. “It’s not like I’m doing anything anyway. But we’re shooting our scene tomorrow, yeah?” The question was directed at Allan.

 

Allan nodded, wide-eyed, looking for all the world like a little lost kitten. Alex felt his cold, Swedish, fishlike heart- or so Deborah described it- melt. Just a little bit.

 

 

Alex was pretty sure Deb had at least one other side gig going on- possibly drug dealing, if this sweet ride was really all hers. Candy-red convertible- and he was still driving a Toyota, _sheesh…_

 

“What the hell is this?” he growled as she turned the music up. “It sounds like a prepubescent teenager- and is he singing about _bugs?”_

 

“Owl City, bitch,” she replied. “Driver picks the music, passenger shuts his cakehole.”

 

“I like pie better,” Alex grumbled, but stopped complaining once he heard Allan humming along quietly in the backseat. The boy could carry a tune.

 

 

The rally was surprisingly large and boisterous.

 

“I thought these guys were Green _peace_ ,” Alex shouted to Deborah over the noise.

 

“No thanks, I’m not hungry,” she replied. “Let’s not get separated!”

 

“What are we protesting, anyway?”

 

“This shipping company,” Deb explained. “See that boat up there?”

 

“You mean ship?”

 

“Yeah! It’s been dumping pollutants into the water…I guess that kills the whales?”

 

Alex looked over the crush of people- there were advantages to being six-foot-five- for a few minutes, observing the signs and noting the chanting. Apparently, “whale” rhymed with “fail.”

 

When he looked back down, Allan was missing.

 

“Where’s the kid?” he asked Deb.

 

She looked around. “Oh…shit.”

 

It was then that he heard the sirens.

 

“Seconded!” he groaned, standing on his tiptoes. “Damn, the cops are coming!”

 

“Well, we have to find Allan!”

 

“This was your fault!”

 

“It was not!”

 

“We have to find him!”

 

“That’s what I said!”

 

“Okay,” Alex said, taking a deep breath and keeping a close eye on the approaching blue uniforms- some of which were in riot gear. _Damn_. “Okay, you get up on my shoulders and look for him.”

 

It was a testament to their friendship that this maneuver wasn’t at all awkward- or even new. With relative ease, Deborah was hoisted up onto Alex’s shoulders, allowing the redhead to tower above the crowd.

 

“Down by the docks!” she shouted. “He’s gotten really…into the cause, I guess.”

 

Deborah jumped down and Alex nearly caused bodily harm to multiple individuals in his haste to find Allan before something bad happened. God, he was so _tiny,_ he could get _squished_ in this crowd-

 

But Allan hadn’t been squished, as the two actors soon observed. No, he had somehow gotten hold of a carton of eggs- Alex didn’t even _want_ to know- and was pelting them at the ship, screaming insults in Danish. They watched in horror as Allan turned from the ship to the cops and threw his remaining eggs at _them_ , before shrieking something that sounded suspiciously like “catch me if you can, motherfucker,” also in Danish. Then, to really put the cherry on top of the icing on top of this cake of happiness the day had turned into, he jumped into the ocean and began making a break for it.

 

“Dude…” Deb whispered in awe a few minutes later, when the power of speech had returned to the two and Allan had been dragged out of the water by the police.

 

“Well, we better get down to the station,” Alex sighed. “Someone has to spring him out of the hoosegow before our illustrious director notices.”

 

 _“Hoosegow?”_

 

 

“You go in.”

 

“No, you.”

 

Alex stared hard at Deborah. “Let’s settle this the old-fashioned way.”

 

“You mean a gladiatorial fight to the death?”

 

“….no, I mean rock, paper, scissors.”

 

One brief children’s game later, and Alex was heading into the police station, grumbling under his breath about “devious psychic redheads”.

 

“Can I help you?” the middle-aged officer behind the desk greeted him.

 

“Yes, I’m looking to pick up a…well, a protester from Greenpeace,” he grinned, laying on as much charm as he could muster.

 

The officer appeared singularly unimpressed. “Name?”

 

“Allan Hyde.”

 

“Ah, the wet guy.”

 

“That would be him, yes.”

 

“Stay right here, please,” she informed him, before ducking back into where he assumed the holding cells were. A few minutes later, she emerged with a still-dripping Allan. He looked a little nervous, but grinned hopefully up at Alex, who fixed him with a stern look.

 

“You _are_ family, right?” the officer asked.

 

“Oh yeah, of course, he’s my…” Alex quickly ran through all the relationships he could think of and ended up blurting out “…fiancé.”

 

The police officer looked surprised, but not nearly as surprised as Allan, who stared up at him like he had just had an anvil dropped on his head.

 

“ _Fiancé?”_

 

“Uh, we’re not from around here,” Alex quickly attempted to explain. “We’re from, ah-”

 

“Maine,” Allan finished.

 

“Yeah. Maine.”

 

“Is that legal up there?”

 

“Not yet,” Allan replied. “But it will be.”

 

The officer still looked skeptical, and Alex had a terrifying vision of what Alan Ball would do to him if he found out that Alex and Deb had gone and gotten his Godric arrested for egg-throwing- or whatever they would charge him with, Alex neither knew nor cared- which lead him to do something absolutely _insane._

 

He leaned down- about a foot down- grabbed Allan Hyde by the scruff of the neck, and kissed him rather soundly. It was quite pleasant, Alex thought after Allan responded- enthusiastically, he noted- and for a moment he was sad that Allan wasn’t _actually_ his fiancé, and they didn’t _actually_ live in Maine. He didn’t think he would have liked Maine, though. Too many lobsters.

 

“All right then,” the officer said after they broke apart, Allan blushing like a particularly lifelike strawberry. “Uh…sign here, please.”

 

Alex scrawled something that may or may not have been his signature and strode out of the building in a slight daze, only barely registering the fact that Allan was holding his hand.

 

He snapped out of it when Deborah popped open the doors for them.

 

“Ew, gross! You’re _soaked_!” she cried.

 

“Sorry,” Allan apologized. “I got a little…carried away.”

 

“I’ll say,” Deborah muttered, handing him a blanket to sit on.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with putting a little passion behind your beliefs,” Alex stated, sliding in next to Allan. “Or, you know. A _lot_ of passion.”

 

“Yeah, well, you two, don’t get passionate all over my back seat,” Deb grumbled, and laughed at the twin death glares that were sent at her.

 

Turning up the music, she put the cherry-red convertible in drive and let the wind dry off Allan as the three of them sped back to a probably very awkward explanation to their director, a set of dry clothes, and a new paramour, respectively.

 

Oh yeah. Life was good.


End file.
